It’s 2:03 in the a.m., I’m not a fan of the usual textual breakup when I try and write verse. So forgive the formatting.
It’s 2:04. I am alone. When last you saw me, when last I came into this little space it was a manic version of myself. Bristling with anger, and sadness, fear- like a hedgehog. Defense mechanism. Lashing.
Better will come hard. I have no disorder. I can not empathize. Nor soothe, sufficiently. It’s 2:06, and I ain’t been to the beach in a while, but I’m not ready to rewrite certain memories.
It’s 2;06, and I could cry, because it has been very easy to do so, and I like it. I don’t mind it, bringing myself to the brink at every moment of the day, constantly reminded. Pricked. Bristling.
I feel, after the wedding of my sister. I felt the shadow of marriage lurking- the reality of it. And now it’s the spectre of divorce, & kids. I’m going through the motions of changing diapers and fearing debt and disappointment of not being the best mom, of not being Pinterest worthy. Of all the suburban shit.
I vibe through my family. Me and dad fight, but banter, but without the separation anxiety. I’ll make him proud yet, but he’ll have to face how I’m willing to do it. Hell and high water.
& Mom writes. Someday I’ll flex this space. Someday they’ll see their son. I can wait.
But I very much am my sisters. And now I have brothers. And I have gained more brothers.
& i can still feel dreadfully alone.
And right now I’m.not the best son. I’m not the best anything. And maybe you’ll see me trying, and give me the credit. Maybe the people who should see it aren’t- but does it change much?
And someday my family will deal with this space. With my _____, or otherwise. Someday they’ll have wanted to know who I really was, even when I barely was.
It’s 2:15 and I still can’t sleep.
& making peace with it.
Because someday you won’t be able to sleep either, they won’t be able to sleep either. Some day it’ll help to know it’s never really any easier.
So save it.
Because this is still something too.
So save it
& Be present.